


Like minds

by CheshireCaine



Series: UraIchi Week 2018 [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cute, M/M, Medic!Ichigo, UraIchi Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCaine/pseuds/CheshireCaine
Summary: Day IV | Getting Together





	Like minds

**Author's Note:**

> Late and legit posting this from a party like damn I deserve credit

“Oh, one other thing.”

Urahara _hmm_ ed like a confused cat.

“I wanted to know if you know anything about medicine. For medical emergencies, but beyond first aid.”

Urahara tipped his head. “Why would you want to know anything about that, Ichigo?

Ichigo scratched at his nape. “I figure it’ll come in useful. You’ve patched me up when I need it before, but it sucks not being able to do anything on the battlefield”—he followed Urahara’s beckon into the back of the store—“especially if Rukia had been injured when we’d needed to save her. And, like I said, you’ve healed me whenever I needed it in training.”

Urahara slid open the door to the lounge, and settled himself in on the other side of the table at the centre.

“So who better to ask?” said Ichigo, plonking down onto the tatami mats.

Urahara snapped his fan open across his face and looked away towards the ceiling tiles. He hmmed once again.

“I must confess some level of surprise, Ichigo. I definitely didn’t see this coming.” His eyes drew across to Ichigo.

The boy had Zangetsu across his lap and his hands on his knees; expectant, like he was expecting to be executed.

Kisuke sighed and put down the fan. “It should’ve occurred to you, that being a medic is a very specialised profession. It’s not something to half-arse and will, quite frankly, prove detrimental to your battle ability.”

“And somehow you’ve managed to maintain some level of medical expertise while taunting me about my incompetence in training.”

He had him there. Aah. Now Kisuke could see, it wasn’t anxiety he could see, but determination in the boy’s focussed eyes and the strict lines of his face and body.

“. . . Why the hell not?”

 

* * *

 

“Wow.” Urahara flipped frantically through the sheets crinkling in his tight grip. “You really do know your stuff.”

Ichigo shrugged his shoulders to dispel the tension from the, he felt, undeserved compliment. “My dad’s a doctor. I knew this much growing up already, and some occasional research projects.”

Urahara arched his brow. “Research projects?”

“Yeah. I was always a bit curious about what my dad did. And Yuzu used to get fevers a lot, and Karin once got hit in the shin badly during football, so she had to get a cast for the greenstick fracture.”

Urahara had been concerningly pleased as Ichigo revealed more and more knowledge. Immediately after accepting Ichigo’s request for further teaching, just in fixing injuries and not causing them, he’d been drawn into an intense and impromptu test on everything and anything medical he could recall.

Ichigo was no specialist, but he gave as good as he got, and answered every blow-by-blow question with his best.

Urahara’s eyes blurred into the shadows of his hat and his positively gleaming smile as he raced to provide Ichigo with quicker and more challenging questions.

Ichigo could swear that midway through a stream of consciousness that began discussing how gunshots to the stomach would be lethal thanks to leaking stomach acid and ended with the paralytic effects of vodka on the pyloric sphincter (thanks to a short fad of European alcohol in the area that led to a lot of pleas for hangover cures at the clinic), Urahara blinked and his eyes became newly visible. And they shone. Gleamed. Sparkled like the night sky.

Ichigo had a feeling he was going to end up regretting this (he already did, midway through that test, but anyway).

Right now, Urahara’s entire body swayed, betraying some deep hope that Ichigo had no chance of fulfilling. His face drew into a grimace but Urahara’s face belched pure sunlight.

He gave in. “Well, yeah, I needed data.”

The pure stream of joy that erupted from Kisuke bowled Ichigo over and his eyes narrowed as he prepared for the man to spew happiness at him.

 

* * *

 

Urahara hadn’t expected this of Ichigo. He hadn’t expected this at all.

Nothing in Isshin’s hurried visits during gaps in his appointments and Masaki’s shouted “Huh!”s over the phone as she rocked her twin daughters in her arms and handed one over to Isshin to fawn over before she could actually wrench the phone from her shoulder and answer his question of “How are you and the family?” had led him to believe this to be typical of Ichigo. Not the boy’s nonchalant response to mild injuries from scrapes growing up and not his experimenting to provide deceased little girls with the perfect gift for their graves (it had turned out to be a bouquet of wildflowers Ichigo had stolen from various gardens and her saggy teddy bear it had taken the young Ichigo three charity shops to track down).

His experimenting. His calm response to injuries that even this child recognised as minor . . . Huh.

Kisuke had to be getting old.

Yoruichi running up behind and yanking out a few hairs the day before did not help. Especially when she cackled “Baldy!” at him.

“Maa.” He rubbed at his head in pain, but turned back to the test sheets he’d given Ichigo. He’d marked them up with occasional additions and branch topics the boy could look into, but quite frankly, there wasn’t a great deal he needed to add. Ichigo knew his stuff.

And with Kisuke’s help . . . this boy would end up being a force more frightening that anything he could’ve imagined unleashing on Seireitei before.

He nearly trembled with excitement.


End file.
